


Dead Girls (and the Boys Who Love Them)

by amidtheflowers



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Pushing Daisies
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Season 6 of Buffy, cute as heck shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 19:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18630265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/pseuds/amidtheflowers
Summary: One came back to life and is thrilled. The other wonders why she was brought back at all. Spike and Ned are just glad their girls are breathing again.





	Dead Girls (and the Boys Who Love Them)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I'm finally posting my April Challenge fic and this has been a long time coming. I'm so excited to share this! It's a crossover between Pushing Daisies and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. These are my two favorite series on earth colliding into one and I am so thrilled to be writing it. It's the first crossover I've ever done so if you don't think I obsessively rewatched both series to make sure I got this right, you'd be wrong :P
> 
> Thanks to my girl Hinatas for beta'ing this for me, and for OffYourBird who not only made that GORGEOUS banner (seriously, she is incredible), but for being my sounding board and helping my addled brain when it was flying all over the place.
> 
> As always, BTVS and Pushing Daisies don't belong to me; I just like playing in their sandboxes.
> 
> This fic begins towards the end of season 6's Life Serial for Buffy. For Pushing Daisies, it continues after Season 2's Bad Habits (but unnecessary to know for the plot of this fic, don't worry. It was my own mental starting point).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

**Chapter 1: The Piemaker Comes to Sunnydale**

**-:-**

When a puff of smoke burst before Buffy and Spike, the demon of indeterminate intent disappearing without a trace, they both wondered just how much worse the night would get.

“He blew up,” Buffy said bluntly.

Spike glanced around dubiously, frowning. “Yeah, I saw. He’s gone.”

“Gotta love it, you know.” Buffy shrugged, not noticing Spike smile down at her. “It makes you feel all powerful. Strong.” The color drained from her face and her body swayed a little. “Kinda sick.”

“Slayer…” Alarm filled Spike’s voice as Buffy glanced at him. Before he could get another word in, Buffy grabbed his arm and bent over, vomiting all over the pavement.

Spike grimaced and steadied her with his hands, gripping her tightly. “Hell, luv, that’s a lot of sick.” Buffy’s reply was another shiver and heave. Spike was mildly impressed by how long it went on.

Finally, the heaving stopped. She was trembling all over and Spike gently lifted her upright. “I can see why you don’t drink.” Spike shifted her weight to one arm while the other went questing inside his duster’s pockets. “You don’t know how to drink without getting drunk.”

“No. Because. Booze…evil.” Buffy winced in protest when Spike wiped her mouth with a handkerchief. “Mggrf—stop! Ugh.”

“You prefer having bile ‘round your pretty mouth?” Mutinous silence was his answer. “Din’t think so.” Spike swiped the handkerchief across her mouth again.

“Who even carries around hankies anymore?” Buffy watched Spike consider the ruined cloth before tossing it behind him towards the bar. “That’s littering, you know.”

“Something’ll pick it up later. Establishment like this, an’ all.” Buffy made a face as Spike took her by the elbow and led her down the street.

“I’m telling everyone you carry smankerchiefs.”

“’M quaking in my boots,” Spike snorted. His grip on her tightened. “C’mon, luv. Know you’re still wobbling but we’re nearly there.”

“Where are we going? Why aren’t we on the motorcycle? I wanna go home.” Buffy dug in her heels, forcing Spike to stop.

Spike closed his eyes, sighing. “And we will,” he replied with exaggerated patience. “If we get you on the bike now we’ll have a repeat performance of you blowing chunks. We’re sobering you up first.”

“I’m the Slayer. I don’t need so-bring.”

“Humor me.”

He brought her to a twenty-four hour diner and Spike held the door open for her. Buffy glared at him and strode inside, only to suddenly when her stomach gave an unholy lurch. “Uh-oh,” Buffy said weakly.

Spike steered her to the back of the diner and flashed a toothy smile to three customers who were staring at them oddly. He helped Buffy into a booth and somehow, a steaming cup of coffee and a glass of water were set in front of her a moment later. “Drink,” Spike ordered.

Buffy scoffed. “I’m…do what I want.”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “Buffy.”

“Ugh, fine! When did you get so bossy?” Buffy grabbed the cup of coffee, staring into the black liquid with a frown.

Only she didn’t take a sip. She stared and stared and stared, until finally Spike broke the silence. “The goal is to bring it to your mouth, luv.”

“I don’t think I can. Stomach too floopy.”

The corner of Spike’s mouth quirked up. “It’ll fix that. Go on, now, drink.”

Buffy glared at Spike for good measure, then took a sip. She took a few more before setting the cup down and slumping against the table. “Today sucks.”

“I know.”

“You were supposed to fix my life.”

Spike didn’t meet her eyes and focused instead on the rim of her coffee cup. “I know. Keep going,” Spike nodded at the cup and Buffy forced more of the bitter liquid down.

Buffy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling her brain slowly start to work again. “I can’t believe you play kitten poker.”

Spike shrugged and leaned back against the booth. “Can’t knock what pays the bills.”

“You don’t have bills.”

Spike balked. “Everyone has bills, Slayer. Where d’you think my blood an’ smokes come from?”

Buffy reached for the glass of water and took a generous gulp, the cold stream instantly cooling her down. “Petty theft?”

“Not if you’re a regular. I’d be dust in the wind if I kept that up—someone catches on, sooner or later.”

“Whatever.” Buffy glared at Spike again. “You said your world would fix me and it didn’t. You didn’t. Everything today was awful and I can’t do anything.”

Reality crept to the surface of her mind again, the haze of alcohol now replaced with guilt, dread, and the heavy weight that never seemed to lift from her chest. Buffy closed her eyes and dropped her forehead against her hand. “I can’t do anything anymore. I’m no good.”

“That’s not true,” Spike replied quietly.

“Really?” Buffy said with a bitter laugh. “I can’t even ‘try on’ your demon world right. The only thing I’m good at is being the Slayer.”

“Buffy…” Spike shook his head slightly, incredulous.

“You know I’m right. This is all I am now.” Buffy swallowed hard and looked away. “I’m alive so I can kill things for other people every night.”

“Hey. Look at me.” Reluctantly, Buffy met Spike’s intense gaze. “Something was messing with you tonight, pet. You saw it just as I did. As far as I’m concerned, today doesn’t bloody count.”

“But the classes—”

“Sod the classes,” Spike growled. “Auditing something you don’ give a fig about, halfway through term, doesn’t make you a bloody failure. What was your major last year?”

Buffy shrank in her seat a little. “I didn’t have one. I-I hadn’t declared anything yet.”

Spike stared at her. “Then how’d you figure you weren’t…?” He shook his head at her uncertain look. “Christ, Summers. I love you but sometimes even I can’t follow where your mind goes.”

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat. Across the booth Spike stiffened, his eyes going wide, before darting his gaze away from hers. Buffy almost said something. She almost bolted out the door, too, but it never came to that; Spike was quick to recover and prodded on. “An’ your construction stint—three demons just happen to terrorize you at work an’ then disappear?”

She exhaled softly.“Technically they melted,” Buffy mumbled.

Spike frowned. “An’ the red demon and the van—did you see where the van went after he blew up?”

“Um…No. I don’t know. I can’t think,” Buffy groaned and put her head in her hands again.

Spike shrugged. “’M just sayin’—you don’t throw in your hat after one day, pet. You’ll figure out what you want to do. It just won’t be retail or working with your poofter mate.”

“Hey,” Buffy warned. Spike lifted a challenging brow. “Fine,” Buffy conceded unwillingly. “I still don’t think school is an option…not right now, at least. With Dawn and the bills, I won’t be able to pay even half time’s tuition. I just…” A slight tremble of her lip was Spike’s only indication of the hurt Buffy was concealing. “…don’t want any of this.”

“Buffy.”

Spike’s voice was soft, blue eyes filled with an amount of understanding only he truly could have.

Blinking hard, Buffy pushed her drinks away. “You were right, earlier at the bar. A big fight is just what I need.” She stood suddenly, but just as quickly scrambled to clutch the edge of the table when her head spun.

“Easy, luv. We’ll get to the big fight of the evening. First, some food in your system’ll do some good.” Spike carefully tracked her unsteady movement as Buffy slowly sat back down. “There’s a cheese toastie on its way with your name on it.”

“You know, you’ve been really mother-henny since we left the crypt.” Buffy crossed her arms, glaring.

They both knew why Spike was going leaps and bound to take care of Buffy, but neither were comfortable yet to admit it, Spike’s inadvertent confession notwithstanding. So he took the easy way out.

“You take that back.” Spike sounded scandalized.

Buffy’s lips twitched. “Nope. You’re just a big…softie. Teddy bear vamp. Hence the kittens and the diner.”

Spike’s eyebrow ticked up and he tilted his head. “I’ve all sorts of hard places, luv,” a curling smile lifted his lips, a wicked gleam in his eye he hadn’t afforded her throughout the entire miserable night. Getting Buffy-vomit on his Docs and babysitting the Slayer in a diner seemed to have shed the last of his restraint. “All you had to do was ask.”

For a fraction of a moment, temptation dangled to the forefront of her mind to maybe do just that. It was a forbidden thought, one she rarely dwelled on, but there it was—tempting, complete with the knowledge that despite his jibes and disaffected posturing, Spike would do just about anything for her.

Instead, Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Gross, Spike.”

The tension between them lifted.

Spike leaned back, rolling his eyes. A waitress came then, and placed a grilled cheese sandwich in front of Buffy. The smell was magnetic and all of Buffy’s reservations dissipated, instantly reaching for it and tearing off a corner with her teeth.

Spike smiled as he watched her eat. Lord, but she was magnificent—flawed, cracked all around the edges, but no less glorious than how he remembered her before. 

As his eyes wandered about the diner, he couldn’t help but notice three sets of eyes darting to and away from the booth where he and Buffy sat. His eyes narrowed when they caught his stare and quickly ducked their heads, three heartbeats jumping to a fervency that had him on edge.

“Luv?”

Buffy swallowed thickly and drained her cup. “What?”

“Three pulsers in the other booth are starin’ at you.”

Buffy glared over his shoulder. “Nuh-uh. No more. I’ve been watched and followed all day and—and this stops now.” She took another surreptitious bite. “Just as soon as I finish this.”

**-:-**

Unfortunately for Buffy and Spike, the potentially pernicious trio left the diner before Buffy could demand answers from them. Instead, Buffy marched to Restfield cemetery with the hopes to apprehend a different sort of pernicious fellow; one with fangs and claws and a penchant for drinking blood.

“You sure you’re up for this, pet?” Spike asked warily.

“Totally.” Buffy stuck out her hand. “Stake me.”

“Where’s yours?”

“In my pocket. I’m a little hungover and I don’t wanna lose Mr. Pointy to a pile of dust in case I slip up.”

Sighing, Spike handed over the stake he carried around. They didn’t have to wait long—a fresh grave was just a few feet away and the dirt was already shifting. A wriggling hand shot up from the ground, then a head, a torso, until a newly risen fledgling vampire had fully crawled up from the ground.

“Finally,” Buffy twirled the stake in her hand. The vampire snarled and jumped forward, fangs bared menacingly. “Take—that—you—stupid—day!”

Buffy’s stake sank into the vampire’s heart and he exploded into dust, giving way to the sight of a man standing behind it. His jaw dropped.

“Who’re you?” Buffy frowned. Her eyes darted behind the man, noting he was accompanied by two others—a frowning man in a suit and a very pretty woman who was staring at Buffy with amazement. Buffy recognized them as the very same trio that had been at the diner. “And who’re they?”

The mystery man made as if to reply to her, but stopped when the dust that was billowing onto him suddenly began to reform.

“What the bloody hell…?” Spike was baffled. The dusted vampire was now whole again, clutching his chest where Buffy’s stake had just been.

“Oh my god,” said Buffy.

“Oh my god,” said the man.

“I’m alive!” the vampire crowed.

 Before Buffy could stake him again, the mystery man reached over and touched the vampire’s neck, instantly disintegrating the vampire into bits of floating dust once again.

“Oh boy,” the man said in terrified realization. The two behind him rushed forward and the woman grabbed his arm.

“Ned, are you okay?” she asked worriedly.

“I think the world just got a little bigger than the neatly compartmentalized order I had it in before,” was his weak reply.

“Is anyone gonna explain just what the hell I saw here?” The suited man snapped, disgruntled.

“Not ’til you buggers explain why you’ve been followin’ us.” Spike moved to stand beside Buffy and gave them his most threatening glare.

“I wouldn’t say following but quietly observing,” the man who was called Ned said with a wince. “We overheard you two talking—”

“You were listening to us?” Buffy demanded.

“Not intentionally,” the woman beside Ned interjected. “More sort of being in the right place and the right time; no following involved.”

Spike frowned. “So you’re not the blokes in the van with the red demon?” 

“The who in the where in the what now?” The suited man said disbelievingly.

“No,” Ned said quickly. “We were just at the diner before…” he trailed, eyes going wide with trepidation.

“Before Twitchy here brought back a staked vamp.” Spike narrowed his eyes.

“And poked him back to death,” Buffy finished. She folded her arms and pinned Ned with a hard look. “Wanna explain that or should I get stake-happy again?”

Ned nodded rapidly as he took quick, short breaths. “I would, it’s just, um—still trying to process the fact that a person dusted, undusted, and redusted right in front of me. As far as dust goes people aren’t supposed to do that—at least not without a cremation oven.”

“You can bring vampires back to life but you don’t know what a vampire is.” Buffy stared at him.

“Oh boy,” said the woman, taking a shaky breath.

“Vampire?” Ned’s voice went up an octave and looked seconds from passing out. “I—okay. Whew, okay. They said Sunnydale was weird but I didn’t think they meant things-that-go-bump-in-the-night weird.”

Buffy glanced at Spike unsurely. Spike leaned down and lowered his voice. “He’s tellin’ the truth,” he muttered. “The boy’s frightened; so are the other two. Can’t smell even a quarter of demon on any of ’em. Except…” Spike frowned as he stared at the girl clinging to Ned’s jacketed arm.

“What?” Buffy whispered.

Spike shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “Nevermind.”

With restrained patience, Buffy sighed and looked at the trio. “Let’s start from the beginning. Who are you and why are you here?”

“I’m Chuck,” the pretty woman in the sundress replied with a smile. “This is Ned, and that’s Emerson Cod. We’re private investigators from Papen County.”

A thrill of fear shot through Buffy. Dozens of scenarios bombarded her still-sort-of-drunk mind all at once; Ted, caring for Dawn, the Initiative, and six years of slaying now doubling back to her comeuppance. Her ledger was thick with indistinguishable reds, blues, and metallic greens, and someone had finally come to hold her accountable for it.

As fast as the fear manifested in her, it morphed just as quickly into placidity. “Go on, then.” Buffy’s tone was blank. Spike glanced at her sharply.

Ned exchanged an uncertain look between his companions and turned back to face Buffy. “I’m not sure what you think is going on but we just had some questions to ask you.”

 Emerson Cod rolled his eyes and pushed Ned out of the way. “Alright, enough of the chit-chat. You’re Sally Buffay, right?”

“Sally  _what?_ ”

“Buffay,” Emerson repeated. “Graveyard girl who tends the flowers in Restfield cemetery here in Sunnydale, California?”

There was a long pause as Buffy tried wrapping her mind around the description she’d just been given.

Spike burst into laughter.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Chuck murmured to Ned. Spike broke into chortles and Buffy ignored him, annoyance crackling through her.

“You’ve got the wrong graveyard girl. I’m Buffy Summers,” Buffy said tightly.

“Are you sure, pet?” Spike tried and failed at stopping a chuckle. “Not living another double life, are you?”

“I’m sure,” Buffy said through her teeth. “I’m not who you’re looking for. Sorry.”

“Damn,” Ned muttered. “The description had fit—blonde, petite, works at night in the cemetery…”

“But nothing on a girl who slays vampires in those cemeteries,” Chuck added, smiling wryly at Buffy. “We’re sorry we wasted your time, Miss Summers.”

“You’re taking this vampire thing really well,” Ned said to Chuck with surprise.

Chuck shrugged. “I never decided they weren’t real. Hard to discredit something when someone like you is in my life.”

They shared a private smile.

“Hold on a mo’.” Spike gestured at Ned, who suddenly froze at the attention. “This one still hasn’t explained his li’l parlor trick earlier. Or why you’re looking for some Buffay bird.”

“Can you pretend you didn’t see that?” Ned offered, wincing.

“Can you pretend you didn’t see me stake a guy who exploded into dust?” Buffy countered, hiking a brow.

Ned nodded. “Fair enough.” He glanced again at Chuck, exchanging some unspoken language only they were privy to. It seemed like a frequent thing they did, if Emerson’s eye roll said anything. “But it’ll have to be as we walk and look for Sally Buffay. We’re on a bit of a time crunch.”

“Fine by me,” Buffy replied, looking to Spike. He gazed at her wordlessly and she knew without asking that he was coming along. The newcomers weren’t the only ones with an unspoken language.


End file.
